His cover of "Hallelujah" propelled Jeff Buckley to the top of the iTunes singles chart, so Jason Castro and I are square. But I'm still mystified by the perpetuation of the myth that his actual performance of "Hallelujah" was any damn good at all. What, besides song selection, was so great about it? Maybe I'm inverting Paula's Disease and overly penalizing him for that biffed final note, but I thought he sucked.
Also, as I type this, I can feel my withered bones turning to dust. These kids were born in nineteen eighty-seven? My, my.
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"What, besides song selection, was so great about it?"
I can't speak for anyone else, but this is what I liked about it: it took the song back from the dozens of episode-ending montages where all the music coordinator seems to understand about the song is the title -- all those scenes of joyful relief, usually, people gathered around a hospital bed after a successful surgery, or waiting out a storm together. It is not, as I understand it, a hymn of praise. It's sad; there's a hopelessness to it. Exhaustion.
For that reason, I liked that Castro's performance had that realness. That penultimate note was bad and he should have been harshed on more for it, probably; he's not quite serious enough to invest the song with everything it requires; overall, though, it reminded me of k.d. lang's version of it, which is my favorite iteration because she actually has a relationship with the meaning of the lyrics. (Not that Buckley doesn't; I just like lang's better.)
It goes back to why I didn't really care for Melinda. As much respect as I have for good technique and the ability to murder a series of runs, I would rather hear what sounds like a human being. A song is a story, not a weight-lifting competition.
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